These Hands Unscarred Shake My Reality
by SylverSpyder
Summary: Angst, darkness, drama, fallout, pain, Wally-centric, ridiculously long disclaimer. May add more to story later.


**I don't own it. All rights reserved - but some wrongs are still available... Any opinions expressed are my own, and generally unpopular with similarity to actual opinions, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any spelling mistakes in this article are all entirly my fault.  
>Any grammer errors spotted in this article were put there because I could. Everything stated in this message is to be considered my own opinion, and not an official representation of Microsoft Corporation or any other Microsoft employees. Actual mileage may vary. Price does not include tax, title, and license. Some assembly required. Each sold separately. Batteries not included. Objects in mirror are closer than they appear. If conditions persist, contact a physician. Keep out of reach of children. Avoid prolonged exposure to direct sunlight. Keep in a cool dark place. I am not left-handed either.<br>I'd say these are my own views but the government would tax me 15% goods and services tax on having an idea. If I were expressing my company's opinions, they'd probably make me wear a tie... **

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><p><em><strong>Warning: May contain contents with a tendency to induce thoughts of suicide in children, teens, and young adults. Antidepressants may be able to help. Talk to your doctor if you have any risks of heart failure or are on prescription nsaids or pain relievers, addition of this story may add an unsafe rise in blood pressure. Do not read before driving or operating heavy machinery. Talk to your doctor about any health risks before adding this story to your favorites. Do not read if you are suffering from any heart conditions, or are nursing, pregnant, or attempting to become pregnant. Dizziness may occur upon standing. Ask your fanfic-buddies if this fic is right for you. Additional side effects such as watering of the eyes may occur.<strong>_

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><p><strong>It was engineered to grow progressively worse, and, as Wally learned, there are fates worse than death.<strong>

Perched on his neatly made-up bed, Wally stared at his hands in the growing light of dawn, his knees pulled tightly to his chest.

He had lied.

It had hurt him. More than they knew. Watching Artemis die, losing someone again. (_...I'm sorry, but your brother's injuries were too extensive, there is nothing we could have done. We tried our best...) _Losing his Uncle. Realizing that Robin had betrayed him. The blast...

It made no sense. According to his calculations, he should have died. Anything and anyone in the vicinity of the blast should have died, but he hadn't.

Wally shivered, curling further around himself. He could feel it again,_ the sickening horror of seeing his own bones penetrating his skin, jutting out from his charred flesh. He could feel himself vibrating with speedforce, struggling to heal himself, yet not wanting to live._

_There had been nothing left for him. Only silence and pain and shrapnel and overwhelming, complete darkness that threatened to take each excruciating breath away, to rob the smoky oxygen from his struggling lungs._

Sitting on his bed, his heart beating at an accelerated rate, Wally wheezed, the memory overpowering in his head. _He could almost hear his own soft whimpers as he lay, gurgling on blood from the remaining stump where his tongue once was. It was like drowning, but this time, M'gann was not there to save him. He felt the thick ooze of the liquid over his cracked, corpse-like body._

_He hadn't died. _

_There was something wrong with that._

_ He hadn't died. He had simply broken, tossed aside by the spaceship's explosion like a rag doll._

No one knew. _No one knew how it felt, the grinding of crushed ribs with each breath, the knowledge that everything that made life worth living was gone._

It still scared him, quivering on his bed with the remnants of another nightmare, another memory. It scared him that if he had been capable, he would have ended it. _Given the chance, he would have brought the knife down or pulled the trigger._

No one understood, because no one knew.

He did' t think the mind was capable of producing so much pain, hadn't known that he could feel that way and have it not be real.

Wally stared at his hands.

_He trembled in rage as he watched in disbelief, gaping at the sight of his life crumbling before his very eyes. _

Was it real now?

Which one was real?

_Robin lay the charges, and Wally knew at that moment what Robin had known all along. There was no way out, no surviving, and yet he had dragged Wally along with him. Draged him on a suicide mission..._

_ No, Wally corrected himself, it was his decision, he'd pay the consequences. But damned if he'd let the thirteen year old boy beside him, his best friend, die for revenge. _

He lifted his hand and let the speedforce flow into it, watching it vibrate. Eyes unfocused, he reached onto his desk and grabbed a pencil.

Without thinking, he thrust the pencil point first into his hand, eyes riveted in morbid curiosity at the sight of the wood buried in his palm, the blood welling up from the mangled appendage.

He didn't cry. He had felt worse.

_Waves of heat rolled over his body, fire eating at his legs, but he couldn't move, and there was something wrong, an uncomfortable emptiness, a stinging, blinding pain where his foot should have been._

_His eyes flickered to the edge of his range of sight, to Robin's still form, face unasked and cobalt eyes unblinking. Wally had shielded him from the blast, wrapping his long limbs around his best friend and vibrating them, phasing them, as far away as he could. _

_It had not been enough. _

_Robin lay unmarred except for the odd angle of his neck. No breath rose from his still lips. _

Pulling out the pencil, Wally closed his eyes, feeling the speed rushing through his veins. He opened them.

Where his palm had been a bloody, mutilated mess strewn with splinters of wood, there was a rapidly healing cut, devolving into the pale pink of a scar then gone. He was left with a palm full of wood splinters and a bloody pencil.

Wally dropped the pencil in the trash, hearing the wood rattle against dozens of others. He glanced again at his palm. No scar. Clambering to his feet, Wally grabbed his backpack, stone-faced.

On his way out of the door, the rough canvas shifting between his fingers, he couldn't help but wonder, is it real?

The bus began to pull up in front of the stop, watching it approach, Wally shifted forward.

_He couldn't die._

There was one way to prove it was real, he contemplated, eyes drawn to the incoming traffic, the cars flying past.

Just one step...

His earpiece beeped, and he turned away from the bus, from the road.

"Kid Flash here, and handsome as ever."

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